


octavio silva is a bad friend

by mirocthound



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, And Octane Is Dying, Angst, Betrayal, Elliott Witt Has A Crush, Friends With Benefits, Love Triangle, Other, drinking to cope with unrequited love, hound is just oblivious tho lol, miragehound, octhound, octhound but theyre fuck buddies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:13:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23090809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirocthound/pseuds/mirocthound
Summary: “Thanks for dealing with me, Tavi. I know I can be a big baby, but… You really are the best. Just-- thanks, man. I swear, I don’t deserve you. I'm a lucky guy.”He really didn’t… Really, he deserved better. Octavio swallowed thickly, and just pushed the thought to the back of his mind, because he was a really, really, really bad friend, and Elliott wasn’t lucky at all.
Relationships: Bloodhound/Mirage | Elliott Witt, Bloodhound/Octane | Octavio Silva
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	octavio silva is a bad friend

**Author's Note:**

> love triangles everyone! as if we didn't have enough of those with these three already, lmao. also don't take this seriously i spat this out in docs in like two hours and then decided to slap it on here with no afterthought.

“I mean, holy shit, did you see them today, in the game?! Like, how does anyone even do something like that?!”    
  
Octavio just nodded dumbly along, staring forward at the screen and moving the joysticks on his controller, moving the little character through the screen and through the dungeon. He’d been considering going on live, but once Elliott had all but barged through his door, He decided against it. Whenever Elliott came over this late, with this much alcohol, it meant he wanted to overshare, and Octavio had been friends with him long enough to realize that whatever Elliott wanted to babble about, it wasn't appropriate for all his fans to hear.    
  
“I don’t understaaaand…” Elliott lamented, taking another sip of his drink, sprawled dramatically on the couch, head hanging off the edge of the armrest. How he was able to drink like that without it all going up his nose, Octavio didn’t know. He guessed Elliott had a lot of practice at lounging in dramatic positions and sipping booze.    
  
“... You know, you could just talk to them about it.” He suggested, eyes flicking over towards his friend’s moping form, gaging his reaction. Elliott didn’t see him looking, and Octavio snapped his eyes back over to his screen before the trickster could catch him.    
  
He wondered if he looked as guilty as he felt.    
  
“Hah, are you serious?! They’ll probably stab me on sight. Which, you know, is kind of hot, but also would totally shatter my heart into like, a gazillion pieces.” Elliott sighed, idly swirling his drink around in his cup. Octavio didn’t have fancy glasses for alcohol, like Elliot did, so they were just sipping from cheap plastic cups. This time, they were the Minecraft ones. Elliott’s had little bees and flowers. Octavio’s had creepers.    
  
“You’ll never know if you don’t try, amigo.”    
  
Elliott just sighed again, throwing his head back once more in a flamboyant gesture, and let out another frustrated sound. “You make it sound like it’s  _ easy _ , Tavi! If it’s so simple, why don’t you try talking to them sometime, huh?! See how you like it, when you get hacked up by that bird-axe of theirs!”   
  
The sound of the cheesy, 16 bit music covered the sound of Octane swallowing thickly. Or, at least he hoped to god it did.    
  
_ Shit, man, if only you knew.  _   
  
“... I feel like it’s rude to wonder, but sometimes I just daydream about what they’re hiding behind that mask of theirs, you know?” The trickster hummed, and Octavio was pretty sure he was sweating by now. “Do you ever wonder about it, Tavi?”

Oh, did he ever wonder? Nope. He didn’t have to.    
  
_ They’re actually really fucking hot. Red hair, dark eyes, sharp teeth. They actually have a tongue piercing, too, so they’re not as old fashioned as you think. Their lips are so soft, and they look downright dangerous when they smile… Even more dangerous when they’re wrapped around my-- _

“No!!” He blurted out, and Elliott sat up in surprise.  _ Shit _ . “I-- I mean, no-- I just… I guess I just take them at face-value. Or-- mask-value. Or whatever. If they wanted people to know what they looked like, they wouldn’t wear the mask, simple as that.” He shot out, words a little too rushed. He hoped he could play it off as adrenaline from this stupid game.    
  
“... I guess you’re right. Does that make me a bad person, then? For like, you know, wondering and stuff?” 

“Dunno, man. You lost me.”

Octavio desperately wanted the subject to change. He felt like he was going to fucking explode. He wished he’d come clean, months ago… But now he was here, stuck. He couldn’t tell Elliott  _ now _ \-- It would probably wreck their friendship.    
  
Besides. Hound and him had a deal going on. Keep it secret, keep it under wraps, and every other night he got to see first hand exactly how skilled they were with that tongue piercing of theirs.    
  
In his defense-- It’s not like he’d been  _ trying _ to hook up with his best friend’s crush behind his back. Things just kinda…  _ happened that way.  _ _  
_ _  
_ Everyone in the games knew just how bad Elliott had a crush on Bloodhound, way back since the very beginning. For someone who likes to brag about how much of a flirt he is, he was actually kind of a huge idiot when it came to someone he actually wanted to date. He was a dork, in the endearing kind of way, and that’s partially why they were able to become such good friends. Mirage was kind of a dick-- But Elliott Witt wasn’t half bad, in Octavio’s opinion.    
  
Everyone, maybe, except for Bloodhound. Honestly, Octavio didn’t even know if they were aware or not. They were really intuitive and good at picking up on small signals, but could be completely oblivious when it came to noticing the effect they had on people. They didn’t even know, for the longest time, how thirsty some of the Apex fans were for them. When Octavio had finally shown them what kind of horny, debauched things their fans would say about them, their nose crinkled and their brows furrowed-- eyes widened with so much shock, that the adrenaline junkie couldn’t help but throw his head back and cackle.    
  
But, well, he didn’t think it was  _ that serious  _ of a crush. Elliott just had a thing for people that could step on him and break him in half. Like, for fucks sake, he’d had a crush on  _ Bangalore _ for like, the first month of the games. But that just blew over, and he’d gotten over it, and now they were good friends. He guessed that’s just what he thought was going to happen with Bloodhound, too… so he didn’t feel that guilty when they stumbled into their little agreement.    
  
At least-- not at first.    
  
But as time went on, and Elliott’s crush just seemed to get worse instead of getting better, Octavio couldn’t help but feel like he was very slowly being squished between a rock and a hard place. Between his best friend and his really, really, really,  _ reaaaally _ hot fuck-buddy.    
  
His phone chimed beside him, and Octavio practically jumped, hurrying to reach over and flip it over so the screen was facing down.    
  
Not before noticing the text he’d received, though. Of course not, because not noticing would’ve made it too easy to get through the rest of the night, and life really liked being a pain in the ass to Octavio lately.    
  
_ Want to come over?  _

Ooohhhgodohfuck. He wanted to say yes, but he also wanted to shove his entire hand in his mouth as a completely impulsive way to deal with his internal turmoil. Jesus, how bad of a person was he!? Thinking of abandoning his freind to drink and whine alone, just to go fuck the very person he was drinking and whining over?! He felt like such a horrible friend. No, he didn’t  _ feel _ like a horrible friend, he just  _ was  _ one.    
  


Elliott didn’t notice his frantic phone-flipping, he was too busy laying face down, now, burying his face into one of the couch pillows and screaming. Maybe if Octavio’s palms weren’t so sweaty, he’d go and pat him on the back or something.    
  
He wished that he hadn’t stumbled in on Hound all those months ago. He’d gone to the showers after a midnight jog. Everyone knew they liked to shower late, but usually they locked up the entire room whenever they went in there. He guessed they were tired and had forgotten or something, because he’d burst into the locker room, headphones on and blasting, and stumbled right in on them toweling off.    
  
It had been tense and awkward at first. He remembered exactly what they looked like-- wide eyed and caught off guard, hair still wet and hanging around their face in little coiled up clumps. It felt like something out of a comedy skit-- he’d stood there, blinking and staring, jaw practically hanging to the floor. It had taken him a few moments to put the pieces together, but when he noticed the mask set neatly on top of a pile of fresh clothes, he felt like his brain was going to melt out of his ears.    
  
“Out. Now.” Was all they had to say, and he was gone. He was pretty sure he’s never run somewhere faster--  _ including _ times where he’d had stim in his system.    
  
It had taken a while for them to actually address what happened. It wasn’t until a rare opportunity-- They’d both died early on in the games, and were seated next to each other in the dropship, waiting for their teammates to grab their banners and bring them back into the bloodbath. A very rare opportunity for privacy.    
  
He’d felt their eyes on him, through those lifeless lenses. He’d been sweating so hard, he was sure he was going to die. But all they’d done was quietly ask him to meet them later in their quarters. Octavio had been so shocked, even  _ more _ shocked than when he’d first seen them… But sure enough, he’d knocked on the door to their apartment later after the game, and the door had cracked open ever so slightly-- just enough to slip in.    
  
They’d talked. Apparently, all they’d wanted to do was quietly ask him to keep what he’d seen to himself. They’d explained why they liked their anonymity, how they wanted to be able to have their life outside the games without being the center of attention everywhere they went. Octavio couldn’t exactly relate, but he could understand.    
  


Of course, he’d never planned on telling anyone. They’d seemed so relieved when he’d told them that, and he even stayed over a little extra, just chatting about odds and ends. They’d chatted late into the night, actually, and Octavio had left feeling like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.    
  
Then, they invited him over again. And then the next time, he offered for them to stop by his place, and they did. The time after that, they’d taken off their mask again, and Octavio was speechless. They’d said it was kind of refreshing, not having to stay hidden around someone for once. He’d brought out the booze to celebrate. They’d been more than happy for a glass.    
  
And, well… a couple drinks turned into a few bottles, turned into a lot of unnecessary sexual tension, and then… it’s easy to figure out what happened from there.    
  
Ever since, they’ve had this sort of neat-o friends with benefits sort of deal, and Octavio never complained. It was fucking ridiculously hot… and also kinda cool, that they trusted him enough to do this sort of thing. From how wild they were, he guessed they really needed it-- and Octavio was enough of a slut to be totally on board with it all, too.    
  
Yeah. Up until Elliott started coming over every night, wallowing about his crush. Who was also the person Octavio was currently fucking behind closed doors. That really put a damper on the whole  _ excitement _ , because now he just felt like an asshole.    
  
He never intended for it to get like this. He’d genuinely thought it was another case of Elliott’s puppy-love. Thought that eventually Elliott would get over it, and he could laugh about it with him one day.    
  
But nobody was laughing now. Elliott wasn’t laughing-- he was  _ sad _ and  _ nervous _ , and he came to his good friend to vent, because good friends were supposed to listen and agree and help with the problem, not make it all worse.    
  
He was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of Elliott sighing dramatically  _ again _ , and he couldn't bring himself to look over as he heard his dear friend whine. “Whatever. They’re probably too good for me, anyways…”    
  
“C’mon man, don’t say that! Aye how about this weekend, we go out to the club and get you laid, yeah? Cross my heart, I’m the world’s best wingman!” He tried instead. Hopefully the prospect of going out would distract Elliott from talking about Hound, and Octavio would be able to stop feeling like he was dying inside. “You can ask Ajay, I’ve landed her some pretty hot chicks plenty of times-- I’ve got your back, bro.”    
  
Instead, somehow, it only ended up making him feel even worse, because Elliott let out the most heartfelt sound, then said, “Y’know, Tavi? You really  _ are _ a good friend.”    
  
The speedster tried not to think too hard, but it was impossible. He’s never been a saint, but this had to be one of the cruelest things he’d ever done… And he wasn’t even  _ trying _ .    
  
The worst part? He felt so guilty for what he was doing, but he knew he couldn’t stop. He knew at the end of the night, when Elliott stumbled drunkenly back to his own apartment, he was going to sneak right out and down the hall to Bloodhound’s bedroom, and spend the rest of the night with his head between their thighs.    
  
“Thanks for dealing with me, Tavi. I know I can be a big baby, but… You really are the best. Just-- thanks, man. I swear, I don’t deserve you. I’m one lucky guy.”   
  
He really didn’t… Really, he deserved better. Octavio swallowed thickly, and just pushed the thought to the back of his mind, because he was a really, really,  _ really  _ bad friend, and Elliott wasn’t lucky at all.    
  
Still turned over, his phone buzzed again.    
  
Octavio just picked up his plastic creeper cup and tossed the rest of his drink down. He hoped there was enough left, because he’d much rather drown in the alcohol than guilt. 

**Author's Note:**

> this is just an idea that ive had bouncing around in the back of my head because im a dramatic bitch who loves causing trouble for no reason. this is for green, since he demanded hurt elliott. also sorry in advance, but updates are going to be garbage-- i'll try to not take forever, but i'd be lying if i said i actually know where i want this fic to go.
> 
> as always, please leave comments. 
> 
> they feed me.


End file.
